


Petey and the Hermit

by eccentric_artist_221b



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Captains courageous, Digital Art, Father-Son Relationship, Fishermen AU, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, I hope it makes everyone super happy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Irondad, Nobody has any powers guys., Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Platonic Relationships, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sarah projects her need for a coastal vacation, Snow, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Winter, for some reason that's been my jam lately, merPeter, this fic is way too long, yall need to see the movie cause father son feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_artist_221b/pseuds/eccentric_artist_221b
Summary: Three years after losing his wife and child to a fatal car accident, Tony Stark courts his darkest thoughts at the top of an old, abandoned lighthouse. Preserved at the last second by the supposed screams of a drowning victim, Tony leaps into action. Finding an injured merboy trapped in trawler lines between the crevice of a rock, he can only assume this is part of a whiskey induced dream. As he brings the creature home to nurse its wounds, he soon discovers this is more than he signed up for when it begins to form a bond with him.(My entry for the 2020 Irondad Fic Exchange/ An Irondad & MerPeter AU)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 82
Kudos: 327
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2020





	Petey and the Hermit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShoyzzArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoyzzArt/gifts).



> This is a labor of love for the lovely Shoyzz-art. It’s my second year participating in the Irondad Fic Exchange and I was so excited at the prompts that were sent to me.  
> Shoyzz-art requested a MerPeter fic. (I hope you enjoy it, darling. I am not sure if it covers everything you wanted, but I gave it my best shot!) This almost became a multi-chapter fic, but I definitely worked at avoiding that in order to meet deadlines. (Soooo many ideas and deleted scenes!! Lol.)  
> Oh, and just so ya’ll know, our beloved characters are void of special abilities and powers in this one, but I hope that won’t stop you from reading! <3  
> If anyone is curious, I got my inspiration for the merman version of Uncle Ben from the Mute character in the movie, The Pilgrimage. He took such good care of Tom! TT^TT It just seemed right.  
> Also, Peter’s clicks were inspired by Tom Holland’s adorable dolphin impression. LOL If you haven’t seen it, go now! 
> 
> Okay! On with the show! Enjoy, my dearest Shoyzz-art and anyone else who decides to read this.

…..

On a cold, gray morning, in a quiet fishing town off the west coast, Tony Stark leans against the railing at the top of an old abandoned lighthouse, his face haggard with legs swaying as he looks out towards the Pacific Ocean.

An empty whiskey bottle keeps him company, chilling from the autumn air in the few seconds it isn't being held.

He lifts it one more time, tilting it back and finding the last drop on his tongue. Giving the label a final glance, he curls his lip in irritation and blows on the edge of its rim.

The makeshift instrument makes a poor impression of a foghorn as the sound echoes down the spiral staircase.

It brings out a giggle, despite his mood, and he tries it a few more times.

He's far too paralyzed by the weighted warmth, currently blanketing his insides, to heed the few tears that slip down his nose.

Why his daughter's favorite sea shanty always comes to his mind when he's intoxicated is still a bit of a mystery, but he's never been able to keep from singing it when it does. To this day, he can hear her tiny voice accompanying him in their nightly routine.

_"Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea_

_To me, way hey, blow the man down_

_Now please pay attention and listen to me_

_Give me some time to blow the man down…"_

He climbs up the railing, standing on the edge, teetering from the wind and reluctant as the song fades from his lips.

Three long years he's mourned, hating himself for not holding her longer in the final moments before she and his beloved wife took a fatal drive up the coast.

And while he still has people in his life who care…who help him run this town, there's a hollowness in his chest, just waiting to swallow him up.

A hundred feet below, the grass sways at the base of the lighthouse, orange maple leaves, scattered and piled up like pillows, inviting rest.

_Pepper._

_Morgan._

They wouldn't want this.

Regardless, the weight of his grief pulls him downward.

A distant scream grounds him just before it's too late and he grips the railing to catch himself.

All at once, he processes what's just taken place…what could've happened. He pitches backward, clutching at the butterfly onslaught going on in his gut as he resets himself.

There's a moment where he forgets what pulled him away from the edge until he hears it again. This time, Tony's sure it's a person and it sends him running down the many stairs and out to the coastline.

Sobered, but still feeling the effects of the whiskey, he makes his way closer and closer to the sound, nearing the giant waves and the long line of boulders before he finds the source.

He sees the fishtails wrapped up in trawler lines first…great, long fins of gray and blue lying like wet paper on one of the big, black rocks.

The upper halves are human; scarred, broken frames lie entwined together with the lines digging deep into their limbs and torsos.

Tony blinks a few times and pinches himself.

"Aaaand, we are putting the bottle down for good," he murmurs under his breath, glancing at the little streams of blood before they're washed off by a wave.

"Yep. Today's the day."

With a final look and pinching himself one more time, he turns his back from the view, waiting for the moment he wakes in his bed with the alarm blaring next to him.

He halts and freezes at the gasping sounds, his tattered slip-ons scraping into the rocky sediment.

Shutting his eyes, he takes a deep inhale through his nose.

"Don't do it, Tony. Don't do it. Don't do it."

He takes his time turning back towards the bodies, clenching his fist and shaking out his limbs. Reaching for a long driftwood stick a few feet away, he holds it ready and inches closer.

The gap narrows between him and the creatures as he moves around the great rocks that trap them.

The smaller form squirms, tail attempting to flap while the trawler ropes and hooks keep it in place. From the back, it appears to be an adolescent boy, but the much larger arms wrapped around it are making that difficult to know for sure.

The heavy breathing carries on, and yeah, it's a young male…whatever it is. Tony gets another glimpse of its chest as he moves to a different angle.

The older one is dead. There's no doubting it once Tony sees the ashen skin contrasting with the glimpse of a dark and greying beard. Its tail lies dull and bloated, sinking beneath what the tide carries in with it.

Tony grips tighter on the stick, moving over to face the live creature's back to avoid being seen.

He scans the extent of its injuries, counting at least seven hooks on its backside alone, the worst one burrowed deep into its shoulder blade.

Still, the creature seems more alive than dead at the moment, its breaths still coming in short little gasps like it hasn't given up…like it wants to live.

Tony could've laughed at the irony were it not so jarring.

A rogue wave hits the rocks, covering over both forms and soaking his pants up to his knees before it rolls back out to sea.

This elicits a loud cry from the smaller creature, its body twisting around and causing fresh blood to seep from its many wounds.

And something unexplainable happens when Tony hears that sound.

Instinct.

His limbs sprint forward on their own, heart jumping into his throat.

_Rescue! Rescue! Rescue!_

_Protect! Protect! Protect!_

His shoes slip around a bit as he climbs the wet boulders until he's standing right behind the distressed merboy. Another pitiful wail gushes from the creature's lungs as its hands shake the body of the merman still holding on to him.

A wave covers them again as the tide moves in and this time the merboy writhes around enough to lie flat on his back. For the first time, Tony sees the creature's face.

He's young. So young. Not more than fifteen by human standards.

His upper half is lean but built, not a hair to be seen on his chin, giving more evidence of his adolescence.

Tony might have been more fascinated by the iridescent, charcoal-blue scales had he not been distracted by another hook hanging from the boy's cheek. Those coffee-colored eyes, swollen red from crying and heaving, lift to see him hovering there.

The creature cries in alarm and Tony falls backward on his butt, stabilizing before he falls off the rock too. He points the stick down at the creature, taking a fighting stance just as another wave rolls in.

When the merboy reappears again, it returns to panting, looking towards the waves and back to Tony.

That's when he notices the absence of gills anywhere on the kid's neck.

"Hey!" he says, keeping his weapon up, "You want some help?"

The merboy continues gasping, pushing closer against the corpse.

"Let's strike a deal…I free you…" Tony starts, lying the stick down and pulling out his pocket knife, "And you…promise not to eat me."

He steps over to another rock hovering over the merboy's head, hoping he'd keep out of danger from both the waves or an attack.

He's not ready for the creature to bite right into his forearm and he cries out from the shock of it, pulling away and favoring the bruised and bloody wound.

"We had a deal!"

At least the teeth were human.

The water climbs up the merboy's navel, adrenaline bringing Tony back to focus.

The creature continues to shove his hands away, attempting to bite a couple more times before Tony stands back up with a few choice words shouted into the air.

He scrambles down from the rocks, running back to his truck, almost ripping the door off to get to his tool chest.

"C'mon-c'mon-c'mon," he whispers, scraping around for some zip-ties and a wrinkled t-shirt off the seat.

A popping in his thigh sends a cruel reminder of his age as he sprints back to the boulders, the young creature is nearly underwater when he returns, taking big gulps of air to his lungs with eyes now wide with dread.

Tony jumps down and manhandles the merboy under the water, relieved that he has no ability to bite while fighting to breathe.

Surely the thing could hold its breath longer than a human…perhaps, in his weakened state, the kid's abilities are compromised.

Rescue first; question later.

He finds an arm and it pulls away but Tony's quick in grabbing it back and pinning it between his legs, finding the other one before taking the zip ties from between his teeth and tying the wrists tightly together.

He works the creature's body out of the crevice and cuts away the trawler lines still attached to the dead. The hooks and remaining ropes would have to wait. The next wave sends them upwards and onto a higher rock. Catching the merboy before the sea does, Tony throws the shirt over his head and lifts him into his arms. He half expects the boy to wreak of fish, but his nose only catches hints of sand and seawater. And thank goodness he's lighter than he looks; holding on to his slippery fins is no easy feat.

A few hooks catch on his coat and pierce through the fabric, but he ignores the sharp pain, noting that the kid isn't thrashing anymore…just wailing for all he's worth and trembling beneath the fabric as he carries him back to the truck.

_The other merman._

A pang of guilt hits his chest as he looks back. There had been no time to retrieve him before the waves overtook the rocks. He would likely drift back out to sea…where maybe his family, if he had one, would be able to retrieve him.

The thought is comforting for a moment, but Tony knows better.

At the very least, he would do his best to redeem such a needless death by pulling out these hooks from its offspring…or relative…or whoever this creature was to the deceased.

This is all just a whiskey-induced dream anyway.

The merboy tries another round of tail flapping as he's stuffed in the back seat of the truck.

"Whoa-easy-easy!" Tony says, feeling like some kind of sick kidnapper as he looks around to see if anyone's observing this unconventional rescue.

He's not kidnapping a child. He's saving one…and it's a merchild. There's a difference!

It takes ten minutes for Tony to reach his worn-down beach hut, hidden in the base of a line of cliffs on the shore, overlooking the Pacific. The smoke from the chimney blows around in the wind, promising warmth once he makes it inside.

The heat from the fireplace embraces him at the door, but he has no time to relish the feeling as he sprints to the bathroom, turns on the tub faucet, and flies back to the truck.

The merboy's repetitive tail slaps have weakened in the short drive over, wrists twisting in their bonds once and giving up as he's pulled out of the truck.

"Don't kill me," Tony grunts, hoping his back doesn't retaliate.

The front yard displays a host of iron wind sculptures, their tunes jingling in the cold ocean breeze as he makes it up a flight of rotting wood steps to the front door.

Somehow, he gets to the bathroom in one piece, hoping he hasn't hurt the merboy further in the process.

The bathtub isn't full enough, but he doesn't wait, setting his charge in, slow and careful.

The moment the merboy's back touches the water, he thrashes about, setting Tony into another round of 'tame the beast' before all goes quiet.

"Okay. I think we can both agree, that was…awful," he says, wiping the water from his face and smoothing back his wet hair.

Soon, there's an exhaustive list of steps that Tony isn't prepared for…and it takes hours.

Step One: Place merboy in tub and turn on showerhead.

Step Two: Quickly change the direction of faucet over to cold before merboy shares the same fate as Mr. Bubbles, Tony's first and last pet goldfish.

Step Three: Remember that merboy comes from the sea and therefore needs salt in his bath if he is to live to see another day.

Step Four: Call the local aquarium and pay the big bucks to have them send over a box of salt mixture, pronto. (Step four and a half: tell no one what it's for.)

Step Five: Cut the rest of the trawler lines.

Step Six: Absolutely dread step seven.

Step Seven: Pull out hooks.

Tony can't bring himself to tug on said hooks before lifting the shirt off the merboy's head, his conscious insisting on giving the poor thing a chance to see what's going on, rather than be surprised by more pain.

The kid presses his nose into the tile wall once the shirt disappears, making sure he never once makes eye contact with Tony. The zip ties are cut away next.

Tony clears his throat, rolling up his sleeves and reaching for the wire cutters first.

"I know this wasn't how you pictured your morning playing out," he says, waiting for the merboy to respond, "Do you speak? Hmm? You understand what I'm saying?"

The merboy keeps his face to the wall, eyes moving towards the sound of Tony's voice.

"Listen, I'll get these hooks out and put you right back where you belong. I promise."

Tony brings the tools around so they're visible, slow in all his movements as he tries to explain what's about to happen.

"This is gonna hurt, kid," he murmurs, sterilizing everything one more time before he begins, "But you'll bounce back when these things come out...You're gonna let me do this, right?"

The merboy cries out when Tony pulls at the one beneath his shoulder blade but he doesn't fight back, beginning to understand what his captor is trying to accomplish.

"Sorry-hey-easy. You're alright," Tony says, cutting off the barbed end so he can slide it through the pale skin.

He douses the merboy with saltwater again before starting on another one at his collarbone, repeating the process over and over until a pile of blood-covered hooks lay in a metal bowl beside the tub and the water he's sitting in turns scarlet.

The merboy relaxes a little more each time one is removed, tear tracks drying on his cheeks before they're washed away with another rinse.

"Okay, last hook, kid," Tony says, letting out a long exhale and grabbing for the merboy's chin, "And if we're being completely honest right now, I've been avoiding this one."

The thin piece of steel hangs from the merboy's lip, the end of it poking out through the left cheek.

"You must be a baby in mermaid years. How have you not seen a trawler before? Huh? Was merdad slacking off?"

The image of the dead merman flashes through his mind again. Had that been the kid's father?

The merboy dares to stare at him, terror turning to curiosity as Tony pats his head.

Then with a little sniff and a clearing of the throat, the moment is over as Tony returns to his work.

He scoots closer, deciding how best to remove the hook and wincing at the damage.

"Open your mouth. Say, 'Ahhhh'-C'mon-Ahhhh'-don't bite me."

The merboy tries to copy the action, whimpering when his cheek tears a little more.

"I know-I know. Keep it open. Let me see."

Tony grimaces as he gets two fingers around the hook, testing how stuck it is as he grabs for the wire cutters again.

The merboy braces the sides of the tub, whining and flinching with each new tug.

A piece snaps off with the help of the tool and Tony turns to wipe his face with his sleeve.

"Hang on, kid. Almost done. We're there," he murmurs, swapping the cutters for the needle-nose pliers.

One more scream and it's out. Tony exhales and drops the blasted piece of metal into the bowl with the others, scrambling for gauze and pressing it to the merboy's cheek.

"Whoo! There we go," his voice shakes through the stunned laughter, "We're done. You made it. I bet you're feeling better now, huh?"

He ruffles wet curls with his free hand, keeping the gauze in place for another few minutes before he tapes a fresh one down.

All the while, the merboy fixates on him like he's a sky full of stars.

Tony turns rigid, smile fading at the warmth trespassing into his soul.

Nope.

The kid has to go.

Now.

As he finishes dressing the wounds with strips of cloth wrapped around the ones he can bind up, he squashes down the voice telling him to hang on to his charge a little longer, to find out more, to get acquainted.

The crimson water spirals down the drain after Tony pulls the plug, further expediting the rescue process.

He doesn't speak another word until he's carrying the merboy back to the beach, just outside the house, wading into the water until it's deep enough for the kid to swim away on his own. The setting sun mixes peach and orange hues into the water as a seal disappears under the swirling colors.

"Well, kid, it's been fun," Tony says over the waves, "I'm ready to wake up from this crazy dream. You be good. Stay away from sharp pointy things from now on, alright?"

The merboy squirms out of the man's hold, plopping into the sea and out of sight.

Tony's eyes scan for any bumps in the water or a trace of a fin before they wander down to look at his arms, coated in slime. He runs a thumb over the bite wound, evidence of what had taken place.

A big splash knocks him off balance, sand rolling out from beneath his toes, as he pitches forward into salty foam. When he surfaces, the merboy's face is inches from his.

Tony's yell of surprise echoes off the cliffs as he crawls backward before getting back on his feet again.

"What the-kid. What are you-I thought-trying to give me a heart attack?"

The merboy swims around Tony's legs, stopping to tilt his bandaged face up at him before wrapping his arms around the man's ankles.

"Oh, no. No-no-no-no. Nope. Go on! Go! Skedaddle!"

The moment Tony breaks free, he high-knees it to shore, bending down to pick up a small rock to throw it well enough away from the merboy.

"You belong in the sea with the rest of the fishies. Let's go. Chop, chop!"

He takes a few bigger rocks and chucks them closer to send him out more. Tony ignores the ache in his chest when the creature doesn't surface again. He waits another minute, just to be sure, hoping he's long gone and still within sight before he drops the remaining rocks in his hands.

"See ya, kid," he murmurs, heading back to his hut and wiping his hands on his jeans. The automatic lights flicker on as the winter night sky takes over, the last sliver of pink disappearing beneath the horizon.

Stepping back into the home is like a reawakening. It makes him lean back against the closed door in stunned silence.

Beer bottles litter the tables, clothes, and trash claim the floor and dishes pile high in the sink. How long has he just been surviving? How long has he been ignoring his own existence?

Whether it was the earlier encounter or the fact that he had come so close to sinking into despair before the day's events, or that he still questions if any of this is real, he isn't sure, but Tony cleans.

He scrubs and vacuums, wiping away years of dust, sweeping the cobwebs from every corner, and doesn't quit until he sees the faintest bit of gray light peeking from the kitchen window.

Stretching his sore back muscles and checking the time on the wall, he takes off his flannel shirt, opening the front door and sighing when the cool breeze dries the sweat from his black t-shirt. He drags his feet to the three garbage bags and the box of recycling sitting out on the deck, the final chore.

Tossing them in the bins next to the hut, he feels a weight lift, be it ever so slight, and he walks to the edge of the deck, overlooking the waves, closing his eyes as the wind continues to whip at his graying hair.

Movement down by the rocky shore grabs his attention and he squints to make out what it is.

His heart hammers in his chest as he finds the binoculars on one of the window sills.

_Please, don't be the kid. Please, don't be the kid, Please, don't-_

It's the kid.

He slips on his shoes and races down the steps and on to the rocks and sand, halting when he's close enough to see if the merboy's chest is still rising and falling. Only when he sees that it is, does he bend down to the creature.

He startles when the thing looks up at him, making a few clicking sounds through his teeth.

_Ugh, come on, wake up already. This is just-_

Tony digs the heels of his hands into his eyelids, growling and hovering closer to the merboy.

"Hey! Did you beach yourself? Did you honestly just beach yourself…because this…I don't know if you've got a screw loose, or what, but you don't want this! I. Don't. Live. Under. Water!!"

The merboy makes another noise and Tony notices the ribs jutting out ever-so-slightly on the sides. He hadn't caught the detail earlier, but now they beg to be noticed.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he collects himself, staring back at his hut and eyeing the large, cedarwood hot tub on the deck.

It hadn't been used in a little while…full of cold, clean water he hadn't messed with yet…comfortably fits eight people. He could add the other box of extra aquarium salt mix he'd ordered earlier…call some people and covertly ask for more information.

"Wow…This is happening," Tony says, unable to keep from dusting away some of the sand and gravel off the merboy's face and hair.

"Okay, kid. You can stick with me until you find your feet again…or your…fins. But this is temporary…or until I come to my senses and, or you start getting sick because growing merkids definitely don't belong in a hot tub, got it?"

He half expects the merboy to resist again when he reaches down to scoop him up, never guessing he'd cling like a koala bear instead.

There's that warm affection back with a vengeance, slamming itself against every guarded wall, testing every inch of it for a weakness.

"Psh, you're a bit of a drama queen, you know that?" Tony murmurs, against the merboy's shoulder, "And FYI, I'm not doing this for you. I don't need a bunch of reporters sniffing around here, snapping pics, once they find your crispy little ass, washed up, dead, on the rocks.

He treks back to his home as a thick layer of fog moves alongside the hovering cliffs, keeping the morning light dim, though, it must be some time after 7:00 am.

"I need coffee," Tony groans, adjusting the merboy in his arms and sighing when the sand and slime soak into his clothes again, "-and a shower. Ow! Easy-easy. I'm old and tired. You trying to strangle me?"

The merboy relaxes and Tony wonders if he understands. Maybe the kid's been pulling a fast one this whole time. Unlikely, when he follows up with another one of those weird, creepy, dolphin-like clicking sounds from his tongue or the back of his throat.

He sets the merboy down on the deck floor once they're back up the stairs, concerned when the creature just slumps over like a sack of potatoes, blinking his heavy eyelids and staring at nothing.

It drives him quickly to his task and he's thankful when he gets his charge settled in less than an hour.

He places the merboy into the hot tub, turned aquarium, checking over the many wounds to make sure they aren't infected. The kid can stretch out here, at least. Though, all he does is bob weakly to the edge and cling to the wood paneling. 

"Okay, food," Tony says, rushing back inside and turning on the gas burners, "Food and coffee."

He's able to whip something up in no time. The smell of toast and eggs soon filling the space and drifting out to where the merboy is resting.

He almost gets a taste of his freshly-brewed cup of joe when there's a knock at the door.

_Ah, Crap._

Coffee spills down his fingers and sprinkles his socks as he sets it down on the table, flying out to the deck to pull an old tarp over the hot tub.

The merboy darts backward with a splash, turning his head every which way as his little refuge is encased in blue.

"It's okay. It's okay," Tony soothes, keeping the tarp up for a half-second. "I need you to hide for a bit, bud."

_"Tony? We're coming in!"_

"Stay down…Nope. Stay down, kid," he orders, finally setting the tarp on top of the merboy, "I'll bring you your food. Stay!"

Tony jumps back inside, slamming the sliding glass door shut and throwing the curtains closed just as the front door opens.

"Hey, Tones, we came to-"

Tony's oldest friend, Rhodey stands at the entrance, his other friend, Steve, right behind him, both of their mouths dropped open as they take in the sight of the room…the sight of Tony.

"-check on you."

Tony grabs his glasses off the counter, hiking them up his nose with a sniff, "Morning, Rhodey…Cap. Hey, guys, not that I don't absolutely love seeing your handsome faces whenever I get a chance, but I thought we had all agreed these little curtesy calls need to happen after 10:00 am, every other Wednesday-"

"You're dressed," Rhodey states, pointing at the older man and crossing his arms.

"And sober," Steve adds with a brow raised.

"…ish." Tony finishes, eyes sweeping over the room, knowing this would be the next thing they'd address.

Rhodey wipes a hand across a nearby shelf, rubbing his fingers together without a hint of dust, "Alright, start talking. What happened?"

"Uh, an impulse…spontaneous…whim thingy? You know how it is when you get stuck on a Youtube train. Minimalism vlogs. They're all the rage right now-"

"Oh, really? I wasn't aware you could get wifi this far out of town."

"Hey, where there's a will, there's a way and I do own the town, so-"

"Tony," Steve interjects, unable to add his two cents when Tony goes back to his breakfast preparations.

"And you guys are just in time for eggs and toast. Lucky for you, I made extra," Tony says, turning the burners off just as a few loud bumps and splashes erupt from the outside. He closes his eyes in defeat.

Rhodey and Steve both fly to the glass door, but he intercepts them, spatula aimed high.

"Wait! He's already spooked."

"Who?" the friends ask in unison.

"The kid…a kid…Well, not exactly a _'kid'_ kid, but he's a…"

"Rhodes," Cap begins.

"I know," Rhodey replies, shaking his head.

"No, listen. This is not what it sounds like," Tony protests.

"And what does it sound like, Tones? I'm about to get real concerned here."

"Nothing new there, sour patch-"

Steve pivots around them both, enduring a couple of smacks from the spatula as he opens the sliding door behind the curtains.

"Trespassing!" Tony cries, knowing the ruse is up.

All three of them stand outside, staring at a half-covered hot tub with water still settling and floor soaked.

At first, Tony fears the merboy has leaped from the deck, but a face soon peeks out from behind the round structure, brown eyes staring up at them in terror.

"Tony, you had better start talking," Rhodey states.

"I found him yesterday," Tony replies right away, irritated at the judging expressions. "Stuck in the rocks. The other one was already dead."

"The other one?"

Tony hooks his hands under the merboy's arms, dragging him back around to reveal his lower half to his friends. The creature twists until he's hidden behind the older man, pressing his face into Tony's leg to avoid the gazes of the two strangers.

Rhodey and Steve don't say a word but stand in awe at the creature.

"You guys are seeing this too, right? I'm not ready for padded walls just yet," Tony says.

"A mermaid," Steve finally states.

"Merman," Rhodey corrects, pausing when the taller man gives him a look, "What?" he adds.

Tony can't stop himself from smoothing back the merboy's curls and scratching his neck to soothe, "Well, regardless of how you categorize him, he's just a kid…and for whatever reason, he's decided to imprint on a tired, old hermit."

Rhodey's eyes squint up at the overcast sky as he places a finger to his lips, "I mean, I did take an extra pain killer this morning."

Steve props his arm on the deck railing, "That doesn't explain how Tony and I are seeing it."

"Well, for all I know, you guys could be part of the dream too-"

"Guys," Tony cuts in, pressing his lips into an awkward smile, "While you both fight over whether this is real or not…I'm just gonna…Sorry, he's starving."

Rhodey folds his arms, "Oh yeah, you go on ahead," he replies, "Don't let us stop you."

Tony purses his lips, shifting his gaze between the two friends as he takes quiet steps towards the kitchen.

The merboy flattens his chest to the deck floor once his protective shield is gone, eyes shifting to the door and back to the strangers until the older man returns.

"Careful. He bites," Tony says, holding up his bruised arm as he carries a plate of food in the other.

He sets it on the railing and manhandles the merboy back into the hot tub, waiting for him to resurface once he gets his bearings.

He brings the plate over and drops a piece of egg into the water, watching it sink to the bottom as the merboy takes no interest in it.

He tries giving him the toast straight from his hand next, but the merboy sniffs and turns away.

"Come on, bud. You've gotta eat something."

Oh.

Right.

Tony runs back inside and grabs a filet of leftover salmon from the fridge, sure it's going to do the trick.

Instead, the kid recoils backward from the smell of it, gagging several times, much to the amusement of Steve and Rhodey.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," Tony sighs, tossing it off the side for a couple of resident gulls, "I guess there's one more thing we haven't tried…"

His lip curls a few moments later when he brings out a small lingcod, caught a few days prior, hesitant to hand it over to the kid. "This is…wrong on so many levels."The merboy's eyes light up when he sees the fish, pulling himself up to lean over the edge of the hot tub.

Rhodey shakes his head, cringing and grinning simultaneously, "Oh, I think you found what he wants, Tones."

Steve furrows his brow, crossing his arms with a disturbed smile of his own, "Are we sure about this?"

"Eh, I mean, it's just sushi," Rhodey says with a shrug, "Right?"

Tony takes a few more steps towards the hot tub, "More or less."

He holds it out and the merboy snatches it to himself, sinking his teeth into the middle and wolfing down a huge bite.

The three men freeze in place, eyes wide as the kid continues to tear and devour the lingcod's carcass.

"Hey-hey-hey. Slow down," Tony says, not letting his hands get too close between the merboy and his meal, "Nobody's gonna take it from you."

The creature stops at the man's voice, taking a moment to swallow and breathe before he works on the head next.

Tony's face curls in disgust but he doesn't stop him, figuring this must be normal, however weird it was for the rest of them.

"Okay, now I've seen everything," Rhodey says, pulling over a lounge chair. 

He and Steve remain there for the rest of the day after that.

It gives Tony a chance to get a nap in after being awake for the last twenty-four hours. Not that this is a new occurrence. He's already well acquainted with insomnia.

Once the merboy sees the men aren't threats, he relaxes too, curling up on one of the seats in the hot tub and falling asleep when his caretaker doesn't appear for a time.

Later in the evening, they talk for hours out on the deck, huddling around a small, cast iron fire pit.

They discuss the merboy at length, Rhodey's recent retirement from the Air Force, the charter business keeping the town afloat, and Tony's decision to give the marina a facelift to make the area more inviting to tourists. Steve's harbormaster position comes up as well. It had been given to him by Tony, himself, after making his decision to hide out, here, at the base of the cliffs three years ago. His parents had been the ones to make this town what it is today, and though his father made an angry drunk and his mother worked long hours, he loved them both enough to carry on taking care of the community, even putting their last millions into ensuring things carried on as they should.

"What are you gonna do with him, Tones?" Rhodey asks, turning to watch the merboy line some seashells along the edge of the hot tub, "That's not gonna keep him occupied for very long."

"Well, I figure in the mornings I'll take him out fishing with me."

"What if somebody sees him?" Steve interrupts, "What if Hammer catches him? He's liable to shoot first and ask later."

"We also know he's a sell-out," Rhodey adds, "First thing he'll do when he sees the kid-"

"Okay! Alright. Hey. Didn't I tell you guys never to speak that name in this house," Tony groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

He can't call Justin Hammer his arch-nemesis, that would be giving him too much credit, but he does make life miserable in more ways than one.

The Hammerhead Charters business sits right next to his own Stark Family Charters. Then there's the fact that Hammer loves to brag to the tourists as if he owns the whole city. There was also the time he'd managed to get Tony thrown in jail for a couple of nights after someone had carelessly spoken about his wife and child. That very evening, his mug was on the news broadcast for all of Grays Harbor County to see.

Plus, Steve isn't wrong. Just last year, Hammer had been heavily fined after aiding some men in illegal capture of wildlife for an underground animal fighting business, but there's no telling what would happen to a young, never before seen, merboy if the world discovers him. The likelihood of even the most conscientious marine biologists letting the boy free was little to nothing.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to him," Tony says.

This time, he'll make sure to keep his promise.

The next night, after the merboy finishes his fourth lingcod, Tony drags his 80" flatscreen out onto the deck, placing it just out of, what he now calls, the "splash zone" area.

"Alrighty. I don't want you getting bored, so I'll put something on while I fix up some grub," he says, grabbing the remote and bringing it over.

"Hey, look at me," he adds, pointing the merboy's head towards his direction, "Watch and learn."

He turns the TV on and the merboy's eyes widen like saucers as the screen turns off and on a few times. Channel surfing soon follows.

"Welp, I'm corrupting you right off the bat, I guess."

When it's the merboy's turn to try it, he presses the on and off button over and over again and Tony hides a smirk.

"Have fun, squirt," he chuckles, making his way towards the kitchen.

His halibut filet is sizzling in a hot pan of butter with the veggies near tender when he hears the tv stay on a station longer than five seconds.

The old, familiar tune makes him grin and shake his head.

"The Little Rascals," he chuckles, leaving his dinner prep for a moment to check on his charge.

The merboy is entranced, not even aware that Tony stands by watching him as he studies the old black and white film.

The iconic children run around in time with the music, pulling antics and finding themselves in the usual trouble.

_"C'mon, Petey! Hide!"_

_"No, Petey! Not that way!"_

Their bull terrier friend, with the trademark ring around his eye, jumps around them with enthusiasm, twirling around and copying the little boys' actions.

Tony folds his arms and cocks an eyebrow, looking back between the merboy and the screen.

"Petey," he says under his breath, "Huh."

The smoke alarm goes off in the kitchen. Tony races back to his meal, missing how the noise makes the merboy dive down below the hot tub's surface. 

When he returns, the deck is awash with saltwater. Even the tv has a few droplets on the screen, with no sign of the merboy.

"Kid?" Tony calls, heart leaping to his throat as his eyes search around in the dark.

The merboy's head peaks up ever so slow at the edge of the tub, eyes wide and looking to Tony.

"Oh," Tony sighs in relief, clutching his chest, "Okay. There you are…Phew. I'm installing lights in that thing tomorrow."

The merboy rises a bit more upon seeing that his new friend seems unphased by the earlier noise.

"Did that sound freak you out?" Tony asks, moving closer and chuckling when the merboy swims towards him too. "It's just telling me I almost burnt the food…but I can't really explain…that…to you, can I?"

His hand hovers over those wet curls for a second, hesitant to bring comfort, to soothe when he knows it will only hurt him in the long run.

He clears his throat and steps back, just out of reach, crossing his arms and staring up at the stars.

"Listen, kid. You haven't shared your name with me yet, and it seems a little wrong for you to not have one. What do you think of the name, Petey?"

The merboy dives below the surface.

"Okay," Tony says, blinking, "You don't like it."

His charge reemerges with the remote in his hand, swimming to the edge and setting it there.

Tony purses his lips. "Oh."

He lifts the remote with two fingers, water pouring out of the cracks. "Thanks…for that."

Setting the item down, he tries a different approach.

"Tony," he says, putting a hand over his own chest. "Tony."

The merboy's lips part as he listens, taking in the man tapping his chest and saying the name a few more times.

Tony points to him this time, "Do you have a name?"

When no response is given, he presses his palm to the merboy's chest. "Petey."

The merboy stares down at the touch, looking back to Tony with brow furrowing.

"Can I call you Petey? Just until, ya know, you either tell me your actual name or…" Tony pauses, wondering if any of this was even registering inside the kid's head, "Petey. We'll name you Peter, officially, but I'd call you Petey."

For a second, Tony kicks himself for getting too invested, but the merboy points to his chest and then his own and there must be some kind of understanding between them.

"Yeah," Tony says, repeating the action, "Tony…Peter."

The merboy's small laugh must make it official because it's set firm in his heart when he hears it.

Petey it is.

……….

Two weeks pass and he makes it a routine to take Peter out to open water every morning to stretch his fins. The boy never strays far from the Zodiac boat. It's becoming harder and harder to want him to disappear, especially on days like this when they set the flatscreen out on the deck for an outdoor movie night once they're home.

Tony plops in a chair beside the hot tub, a steaming bowl of butter-coated popcorn in his hands and he offers some to Peter. The boy swims over to sniff the puffed snack, hesitant to take it from the man.

Tony tosses the handful into his own mouth, munching obnoxiously with a laugh when Peter makes a frustrated sound and holds out his hand for more.

"Nope. You had your chance," he teases, moving the bowl out of reach, "You only like fish."

When Peter fails to retrieve the food, he tries a different tactic. Tilting down his chin, he lifts his eyes up slow and dramatic, passing glances between the popcorn and his guardian.

"We're taking notes from the _Little Rascals now_?" Tony laughs all the harder, "Get outta here. That cutsie stuff doesn't work on me."

He throws a kernel to the merboy, intending for it to bounce off his nose but Peter catches it in his teeth, smacking loud with a proud grin on his face.

"Smartass," Tony smirks, flinging a few more with a surprised snort when Peter continues to snatch up every single one. "You're a little fruit loop. You know that? I should start selling tickets."

He gathers more as Peter holds out his hands, "People will come from miles around to see 'Petey and the Hermit: A show like no other'."

The merboy smashes the given pile into his mouth, resembling a chipmunk storing for winter before diving underneath the water.

"Yeah, not my best idea," Tony continues, "Hey, you're missing the movie."

Peter comes back up and breathes deeply through his nose, cheeks still full as he reaches out for more.

"Mmm. Soggy popcorn," Tony says with a grimace, watching the saltwater droplets splash into the bowl, "My favorite."

They are well into an old black and white film, _Captains Courageous_ , when the fisherman character takes a bite out of an apple, handing it over to the young boy he's in charge of, letting him finish it and patting his cheek.

Peter swallows his food and looks to Tony and back to the tv screen. The older man can see the gears turning.

"No. No-no-no. See, this is a completely different scenario," he corrects, pointing to the screen and back to his chest, "Spencer Tracy's a total softy, whereas I am clearly not."

But Peter isn't listening, too wrapped up with the fisherman and the boy and the intimate moment they're having. The fisherman pulls out an old instrument, turning a lever on the end as a little tune emits from the strings and keys.

"That's a hurdy-gurdy. It's like bagpipes, an accordion, and a violin all wrapped into one," Tony explains, pausing with a flick of his wrist, "Not that you understand anything I'm telling you, but maybe I can show you one day. Man, I used to love this part when I was a kid."

The fisherman character begins to sing a covert lullaby for this troubled, lost boy that's been placed into his life, unannounced. As he shares the new lyrics, tears form in the boy character's eyes. It's almost the same expression Peter had given him after all those hooks were removed.

I need you, it said.

_I need you._

A lump forms in Tony's throat at the connection, fingers moving to hover over the remote but leaving it when he sees Peter tilt his head at the music.

Tony resigns himself to the moment, singing along with the fisherman and humored by how well the lyrics match his situation.

_"With your fins and a tail to help you sail and maybe some waves to make you fly._

_Yea ho, little fish. Don't cry. Don't cry._

_Yea ho, little fish. Don't cry. Don't cry."_

Peter turns, sharp, to watch Tony's lips as he sings, absolute wonder on his features.

"Can you sing?" Tony asks, leaning forward and putting the popcorn bowl aside, "Like this. _La, la, la, la_ , _la, la, la."_

Peter sticks his tongue behind his teeth, letting it drop with no sound coming from his throat.

"We can work on it," Tony coughs out, biting his cheek to keep the dopey smile at bay.

There's no maintaining this aloof façade as long as this adorable creature exists.

Later that night, he's tested again when he's finding his way around in the dark to pour himself a glass of water.

A sound on the deck stops him before he can head back to bed.

Throwing his thick work coat over his robe, he opens the sliding glass door.

The moonlight reflects off of Peter's wet shoulders, his sniffles ceasing with Tony's sudden presence beside his makeshift tank.

"Kid?"

He jumps when Peter splashes over to wrap his arms around his torso, burying his soaking wet face into his coat.

"Agh! Cold! That's not...hugs aren't really my thing." Tony says, pushing the merboy away with a pat on the head.

"I sure wish you could speak…tell me what's wrong," he says, "Then again, I already know, don't I?"

Peter's cries…his laughter…his screams, they all sound human, but he has yet to hear any speech of any kind. Did merfolk not use language, or is this kid just different?

Trauma was capable of muting even the most talkative soul. He knows that better than most. Is that what this is?

Regardless of what the answers are, he can now identify which clicks and sounds are happy and which ones are sad. The noises he's emitting now are downright pitiful.

"Petey," he whispers, wiping away the merboy's tears, "C'mon, bud."

Peter tries for another embrace. Tony caves, sighing and clutching the boy's head to his chest and letting the water soak through to his robe, "Yeah, alright. Good gravy, it's like hugging an icicle."

It still feels wrong to leave him out here in the elements. That human half he's caring for belongs in a bed, warm and safe, tucked under a heap of blankets, not out here in 30-degree weather. Even so, Peter is unphased in that regard, lips without the tint of blue humans get in the elements, his body void of shivers.

Tony glances around as if they're being watched, clearing his throat as his breath evaporates into the freezing air. A few quiet lyrics, hidden in his heart, follow suit.

_"Oh, the crew are asleep and the ocean's at rest_

_And I'm singing this song to the one I love best_

_Yea ho, little fish. Don't cry. Don't cry._

_Yea ho, little fish. Don't cry. Don't cry."_

Peter sobs a little louder into Tony's coat as he listens to the familiar song. Somehow, Tony knows it's a good thing, that this kid feels safe enough to cry here, with his face hidden away from the world and they both know this song means something more to them now.

_I need you too._

……. 

_Three Months Later_

There's one thing Tony fears more than anything else.

It's become instinct to repel it when it starts to linger.

He had been so comfortable in his chair the morning his girls left home, oblivious of what was occurring and wandering around in the pair of fish slippers Morgan had given him as a Father's Day present, smiling to himself as the rain poured down outside, dreaming about the next adventure his family would share.

The call came seconds after.

He remembers the smell of their last breakfast still lingering in the room, the shampoo from the shower, the maple syrup he had wiped up from tiny fingers on the swiveling bar stool where his daughter had just been sitting.

Comfort.

Tony hates comfort.

It came for him again, months ago, enticing him to celebrate a small slice of redemption in the form of a creature who wouldn't leave his side.

No sooner does he give in and accept what is, there's a knock on the door of his quiet beach hut.

He never would've guessed Justin Hammer to be standing here, on his property, sporting that fake grin that almost always begged to be punched.

"Hey, Anthony! There he is!"

Tony's hand grips the door. "Heeey, what a f…great surprise this is. I'm actually in the middle of something right now," he says, keeping the man from pushing his way in, "Also, you have a phone, right? Okay, good, just checking…cause I've got one too, so this isn't really…necess-"

"I'm gonna cut right to the chase," Hammer interjects, "You've been keeping a guest hostage for a couple of months and as it turns out, my team and I have some ties to your little friend."

Tony bristles, "Who are we talking about? You know, Hammer, trafficking's illegal-"

"Tony-"

"Well, it's just that you already have a bit of a record, so..."

Hammer scowls. "You can't joke your way out of this one, Stark."

"Wasn't a joke," Tony replies with a fake smile.

Hammer holds up his phone, waving it with another smirk. "I know about little Triton Junior. I'm sure you're completely unaware he's got a tracker in his neck. Turns out a few local scientists tagged him days before I discovered him."

" _You_ discovered him?" Tony scoffs, snatching the phone out of the other man's hand. He turns back inside the house, forgetting all about guarding the door as Hammer follows behind.

"We were out doing routine trips and I managed to capture all this footage," Hammer continues, pointing at what he's put on the little screen, "I just had that sent out for verification."

Tony presses play on the video file. The first noise makes every hair on his body stand on end.

He's never heard Peter make such a sound, even when working to rescue him. The fact that he can't see him in the frame makes it ten times worse.

A bearded merman appears in the shaking footage, muscular body far bigger than Peter's as he blocks the view of the adolescent writhing behind him in the water. He bares his teeth and attempts to climb up to the deck of the boat, sending a string of obscenities from one of the crew's lips as he slashes at the trapped creature with a knife.

No sooner does Tony realize that this fierce and mighty being is the same hollow body intertwined with Peter that day, the sound of a gunshot echoes off the water.

The camera moves every which way, but Tony knows the result. His eyes close tight as his stomach churns.

He hears his boy's deafening cries next and he grabs for the chair next to him, forgetting Hammer's existence entirely.

The camera refocuses on Peter this time. Tony watches on, helpless, as the merboy grabs his loved one's ashen face, shouting something unintelligible and shaking his head. He doesn't see how the kid had managed to get ahold of the crew member's knife, but he cuts away at some of the ropes, entangling him further with the other merman as he swims around in panicked circles.

"Grab the other net!" Someone shouts as Peter continues to cut at anything and everything, hooks sinking deeper and deeper into his soft, pale flesh.

"Hurry up! Go! Go! Go! He's getting away!"

Wrapping his lean arms around the other merman's torso, Peter pulls them below, slipping out of sight as a few pieces of line float up to the surface.

"Whooo! They'll never believe us," another crew member laughs.

"Don't worry. I've got it all on video!" Hammer's voice says behind the camera.

"We can't show that! The media will hang us out to dry."

Tony despises them all.

Hammer must see his rage, considering a round of nervous chatter follows, "I can just…take that back now. Yeah, his uncle gave us quite the show, huh? We had to do what we had to do."

"Uncle?"

"I was told by these people who contacted me that he and the kid are the last known members of their pod."

"You've seen more of them?"

"Not me personally. Just a group of highly elite scientists I've been in touch with. As it turns out, the other known few in his circle were wiped out. But that's all hush-hush."

Tony grinds his teeth, inhaling through his nose, "And just so we're on the same page, when did you become a mermaid expert?"

"Hey, Tony, come on. Don't be jealous," Hammer replies, with a cheap grin, "I'm just here to make sure the kid stays safe. These guys are connected with some well-known marine parks that are willing to see to keeping him safe and sound."

"And willing to pay Justin Hammer any price he names to exploit their new discovery, right?"

"Whoa, hey. I don't appreciate you painting me out to be the bad guy here. I just want what's best for the kid." "Actually, where is he? I'd kind of like to-"

"Sleeping, and none of your concern anymore. Get out."

Tony rises and walks to the door, opening it wide and pointing to the outside without an ounce of lenience.

"Wait a second," Hammer replies, "Did I forget to mention that you would, absolutely, be involved in this too, my friend? You and I would be partners. Think of what this discovery could do for your parents' worn-out town. When people catch on…When they hear there have been actual mermaid sightings-"

"Goodnight, Hammer," Tony interrupts, seconds away from tossing the man out, himself.

The uninvited man sulks as he exits, "We'll be in touch."

He gets a door to his face in reply.

Shutting off all the lights in the house, Tony stands still in the living room, eyes adjusting to the dark after a while as they find a random family photo on the wall. The longer he stares, the blurrier the smiles become.

He doesn't know what time it is when he wanders outside to the deck. His feet take quiet steps toward the hot tub, too grieved to admire the first snowflakes of the season floating down and disappearing on the ground.

He startles when a head pops up from the water.

Peter lets out a long yawn, stretching out his tail behind him.

Tony picks at the skin of his thumb, hands pulling apart as his arms take their time in opening up.

Peter blinks, unsure of what the older man is doing.

When he doesn't move, Tony drags him over by the arm.

"Get over here," he murmurs, relieved when Peter does the rest for him, wrapping his arms tight around his middle.

Tony lays his cheek on the merboy's head, sniffing in amusement when it sets off a string of happy clicking noises.

"I'm sorry about your uncle," he says, "…so, so incredibly sorry."

Peter clicks some more.

…………

The following day, Tony drives his truck into town to meet up with Steve and Rhodey over at Bennett's Fish Shack. The little restaurant overlooks a view of the snow-dusted marina; white lights hang along the docks. Fishermen pack their latest catch in large plastic bins filled with crushed ice while bundled tourists admire the boats.

The trio shares two heaping plates of piping hot fries and breaded cod filets, straight from the fryer as Tony explains his unexpected visit with Hammer the previous night. Finishing up their meals, they prepare themselves for the many things that could happen, should Hammer continue to push his agenda.

Though, there's one possibility they hadn't taken into consideration.

When Tony returns home later that day, he pulls an ice chest from the truck bed, setting it down by the door as he fiddles around for his keys. Once inside the beach hut, he strips off his wet coat and mustard-colored beanie, tossing them on the counter and taking the lid off the chest.

"Oh, Petey-boy!" he calls out, smiling as he pulls out a ten-pound tuna fish, buried in ice.

"I've got something for ya!"

He grips the fish with two hands, ignoring the water droplets trailing on the floor as he opens the sliding glass door with his elbow.

"This one's from Uncle Rhodey-"

Out on the deck, the hot tub water sits perfectly still; an inch of snow rests on the cedar edges with a light dusting on the rest of the deck.

"Petey?" Tony breathes, tripping towards the tub and taking in the space.

The tuna slips from his fingers, sliding along the floor as Tony looks every which way for his charge.

"Kid!" he hollers, voice muffled by the fallen snow.

His breaths come in quick gasps as he notices the footprints scattered around the hot tub and down the stairs to the beach.

They took him.

Hammer took his kid…

…right out from under his nose.

He doesn't think, just runs back into the house for his hat and keys before clambering back to his truck to peel out of the driveway.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dials the number for Hammerhead Charters several times. When he gets no answer, he tosses it down on the floor, pressing down on the gas pedal and racing to the first few places that come to mind.

A little over an hour later, he figures out Hammer's location when he comes across an unmarked van in an empty parking lot.

It was easy enough to guess he'd let these so-called 'marine biologists' use his fish processing plant to do whatever disgusting secret experiments they had planned for their _specimen._

The truck door slams closed as he runs towards the building, snow crunching beneath his boots as he finds tall, industrial doors wide open on the opposite side.

The vast and empty space is dark and cold, only a few fluorescent lights hovering above huddled forms in the center of the room.

Peter lies there, sprawled out on a large, stainless steel table, while a thin man in a white coat takes blood samples from his arm. A pair of assistants douse him from head to caudal fin with a continuous stream of water from the sprayer packs strapped to their backs.

They turn the merboy onto his side just as Tony approaches, giving him an easy view of his guardian. His tail slaps hard against the table's surface, a weak sound seeping from his lips as his eyes work hard at staying open, hands stretching towards what he wants before they are cruelly tucked back against his body.

Hammer stands, unaware, with his back to Tony at the edge of the table, turning around to take a selfie just as the other man comes charging towards him.

"Tony! Wait! Wait! Hang on a minute," he cries, dropping his phone in his pocket right as the other man grabs fistfuls of his shirt.

Hammer's hands dig for a stack of papers in his suit jacket, pulling out the wrinkled pages and blocking Tony's death glare with them. "Listen, I'm within my rights, pal. Well, they are, at least. I'm just helping out, and you weren't receptive to hearing me out last night, so we had to take more drastic measures…"

Time slows, the man's voice fading into the background as Tony's eyes find Peter's. They aren't focused, heavy lids blinking closed again as more water cascades down his hair and face like overflowing rivulets. He catches the purple discoloration forming on the merboy's left cheek and it snaps him back to the other man.

"They gave him a sedative," Hammer says, seeing the red in Tony's dark gaze.

"Did you hit him?"

"What? No…He did it to himse-"

Tony shakes the man back hard enough to cause whiplash, ready to throw him down to the concrete."

"Alright, hey, easy," Hammer pleads.

"You want to live, right?"

"Come on, Tony-"

"Right?!"

"Ow! Okay! Yes! Right!"

Tony's whole body shakes with adrenaline, teetering on the edge of sanity, "If you ever…ever touch him again, in any way, I'll lay you out flat. And you know I will, right old chum? You saw what I did to the last guy who pissed me off."

Beads of sweat form on Hammer's brow, gambling his own life on a tightrope of his rival's raw emotions, "Yeah, well…you can tell it to the authorities. They'll be here when I tell them about the crazy old widower keeping a sea creature imprisoned in his backyard jacuzzi…And I'm sure they'll be a big crowd with them. Wouldn't want to see you get thrown back into jail."

The man in the lab coat approaches with caution, sticking his hand out in between the two men.

Tony studies the stranger's face, the white beard, the hair pulled back into a tight bun. Piercing blue eyes seem to pry into his soul and, somehow, Tony knows this man has dabbled in unspeakable evils.

"Mr. Stark, perhaps you will hear me out," he speaks in a voice like honey, "My team and I have another one of his kind in a sea pen in an undisclosed location, near San Juan, a young female around his age. We were hoping to rehabilitate them both together…study their interactions-"

"Oh, study?" Tony lets go of Hammer to flip the nearby metal tray full of utensils, sending it crashing all over the floor.

"You mean make your own home-grown merbabies? Raise them all up to be theme park attractions while you roll in the dough? You're sick! You're all sick!"

He shoves Hammer out of the way and pivots around the other man to try and lift the merboy off the table, "I'm here, kid," he breathes, struggling with the weight of the drugged adolescent, "Let's get you home."

A hand forces back his shoulder.

"No, don't stop him," Hammer warns, "That's a bad idea-Okay…"

Tony whirls around and punches the scientist, sending him flying back to the floor. His gaze meets the other terrified assistants next as they back away to let him commence with rescuing Peter.

"You're not getting away with this, Tony," Hammer calls after him as he gets towards the doors.

"We have connections!"

Tony doesn't look back, surrendering the last shred of happiness still clinging to his heart as he storms back out to the truck.

……….

They soon arrive at a waterfront cabin surrounded by giant cedar trees, not far from town.

Tony parks the truck as close to the entrance as possible before turning off the engine, watching the windshield wipers cease their action as the snow begins to cover the glass.

The moment of silence is almost peaceful.

"Petey, hey," he says. Peter slumps forward in the passenger's seat. Though he appears to be sleeping, his breaths are fast and shallow, no telling if it's due to the tranquilizers or from being out of the water for too long.

Tony pulls his beanie off the dash and puts his keys in his pocket, "Hang tight, bud. I'll be right back."

Exiting the truck, he sprints down the path of snow-covered stones to reach the entrance.

Pounding on the door several times, he moves for the doorbell when it opens with caution.

A woman stands behind it, dressed in polka-dotted, pink pajamas, penguin slippers covering her tiny feet, and jet-black hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

"Dr. Cho," Tony sighs in relief as the woman's eyes go wide.

"Tony?" she says, opening the door wider, "What are you doing here? It's late."

She flips her hair back and smooths it down at the top, fussing with her clothing and wrapping her arms around herself.

"I know it's late, but I need your help…with something," Tony says.

Cho had always been there for his family in the past. She was more than just a brilliant doctor, making house calls after Pepper had given birth, tending to his daughter's needs in her early development, and staying by Tony's side when they found him lying unresponsive after hearing of the crash.

"You couldn't have warned me?" Cho asks, "My house is a wreck. I've got paperwork all over the counters-"

"Well, then we'll call it even for the times you've had to see the state of my place. Listen, Cho, this is going to…probably…no, it will throw you for a loop and a half so-"

"What is going on, Tony?"

"That's what I'm trying to get at."

Tony puts his hands up, looking back to the truck, "You know what? It really, honestly, speaks for itself. So, I'll just-you wait here and…don't freak out."

Cho raises an eyebrow as Tony returns to the vehicle, unable to see much in the dark, even with the help of her garage lights.

The moment she notices there's another person with him, her lips part in concern, inching further out onto the porch to see what the situation is. She can just make out a teenage boy, and by the looks of things, he's unclothed and injured.

Peter's head lulls backward as Tony carries him around the truck and back to where the woman stands and waits.

Cho falters backward at the reveal of the tail and fluke draped over Tony's arm, half expecting it to be a prank, but for how real it moves around with each step the man takes towards her.

"W-What is that thing?!" she cries, reaching out her hand, but unwilling to touch the creature just yet, "Tony, that's a…it's a-"

"Merman," Tony finishes, "Well merboy, if we're being technical. He still plays with seashells. Pretty sure he's still riding out the puberty stages."

Cho lets him walk in the house before her, mouth still hanging open and glancing around for candid cameras.

"I'm dreaming," she murmurs.

"Listen, If that helps you process it better, be my guest, but he needs you, Cho. Please," Tony replies once they're in the entryway. Cho's house is anything but messy. Even the supposed scattered paperwork has a staged look to it. A Korean drama plays quietly on the TV in the living room and the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies permeates from the bright, immaculate kitchen.

Tony could've teased her about it, were he not so focused on his charge.

Cho switches on more lights in the house, "Tony, look, even if this is a hundred percent real, I treat human patients. This is-"

"What? You're suggesting I see a vet?" Tony interrupts, adjusting the merboy in his arms, "I just need you to take something out of his neck."

"Stark, I can't do that here."

"It's not major surgery, Cho. Hammer's phony scientists implanted a tracker; I can feel it right under his skin. They're going to exploit him if they can get their hands on him again."

Cho grinds her teeth at hearing the new information. Tony certainly isn't the only one who's had bad encounters with Hammer, "Does he know you're here?"

"Yep. Which is why we need to move quickly, please and thank you. The sedative's wearing off too."

Cho lets out a growl of frustration, "Alright, fine. This is insane. Lay him over here on the kitchen floor."

Tony does as he's told before moving to the sink, "Do you have some rags I can use? We need to keep him wet."

"Top drawer, to the right," Cho replies, grabbing her kit and stethoscope and sitting down next to Peter.

The oven timer chimes above their voices and she reaches up for the oven mitts and tosses them to Tony, "Here, make yourself useful," she adds, bringing the stethoscope to Peter's chest and ribs as Tony moves her cookie pans over to the cooling rack.

Peter takes in a deep breath, stirring at the unfamiliar hands as Cho feels the back of his neck for the tracker.

Tony returns to his original task with the rags in the drawer and soaks them all under running water, listening to the soft notes in the doctor's voice behind him.

"Hi, sweetie. It's okay. Let me see."

_Just like with Morgan._

When Tony turns back around, Cho wears her mask of professionalism, as if nothing could phase her while she's doing her job.

"The good news is, it's not deep," she comments, helping the older man cover her patient with the sopping wet rags.

"Help me get him on his side."

It's easy enough for Tony to turn the merboy over. The hard part comes when Cho uses her tools to cut into his tender flesh.

Peter flinches and whines, pinned beneath Tony's weight as the pain rouses him from his groggy state.

"Oh, I know, I know it," Cho soothes, working as quickly as she can in poking around for the tiny device. "Does he speak?"

Tony shakes his head, "No, but he's got no problem telling me how he feels."

"Okay, it's out," she sighs in relief a few minutes later, "I'll just sew this up and we're all done."

When she finishes, they roll him onto his back again and Peter looks up at her with his big, brown eyes, as if he hasn't quite figured out what on earth she was just doing to him, but he's grateful that it's done and over with.

Cho can't help but smile at him. "He's beautiful," she says as Tony removes the towels and tosses them into the sink. She takes in the state of the floor next, "-and…slimy."

Tony sniffs in amusement, "Yeah, I think it gets worse the longer he's out of the water," he replies, wishing they had more time to chat.

Cho gives him a knowing smile. This would not be their last conversation. She would bleed him dry for information later.

"I expect the whole story when I see you next…in payment for my services and my silence. "

Tony gives her a warm smile, avoiding her gaze, "Thank you, Cho."

The time has come. Lifting Peter back into his arms, the merboy grabs a fistful of his sweater. Tony's throat constricts at the tiny action.

"Time to say goodbye," he says, nodding to the doctor before heading back out in the snow.

Peter closes his eyes, leaning his cheek on his guardian's shoulder and passing out again as little flurries swirl and fall over his lean frame.

…………

Tony starts to unravel the moment he gets Peter into their little Zodiac boat, quaking hands preparing them to voyage out, into the night.

Mission first.

_Cry Later._

Mission first.

_Cry later._

Mission first…

Peter drags himself over to his usual spot at the front of the boat, peering out towards their next adventure.

He watches Tony untie the rope from the piling post, smiling with a yawn when the engine starts.

Tony scoots over to the merboy, pulling an old shirt out of a duffel bag, "Hey, buddy."

There are a million things he wants to say, thousands of ways he wants to explain what's about to happen, but he can't. How could he ever make this understandable?

Peter needs to live.

Tony would die before he sees the kid rot in a tank for the rest of his life, forced into experiments and other unknown tortures.

There is no other way.

The merboy keeps his eyes on Tony the entire time, even as the t-shirt covers over his eyes.

The mere fact that Peter doesn't protest makes this ten times harder. His unadulterated trust feels like knives in Tony's heart.

"Good boy," he says, leaning him back to where he can rest his covered head on the edge of the boat, "Good boy."

He pours a few more buckets of water over his charge before heading out to sea.

Peter dozes again, never once taking off the shirt, even after he wakes later on.

But the little boat goes on for miles, doesn't stop until what feels like an eternity.

When it finally slows, Peter's patience has reached its limit.

"Okay. Hang on," Tony says, letting him see at last.

The merboy scans his surroundings as the shirt comes off.

The little light of their boat makes soft, orange reflections off the bobbing waves.

Tony sees what he's been anticipating, swallowing down the nausea it brings.

The kid doesn't know where they are.

"Petey."

The merboy looks at him, a twinge of unease appearing as his smile fades.

"Buddy, I don't want to do this," Tony's voice cracks, "But...I need you safe…and happy…and free."

He runs a hand over Peter's curls, knowing his next actions will hurt the merboy far more than any trawler hooks ever could.

"Listen, bud. You and I…we can't be together anymore. It's too dangerous."

A few tears spill down his nose, despite his best efforts.

"I'm sorry."

He watches Peter struggle with something on his tongue, his usual clicks absent as his vocal cords work on something new.

"T-Ton-y," he says, bringing a hand to the man's face, wiping away the tears, and tilting his head.

Tony's bottom lip trembles, failing to smile as he rubs a thumb over the tiny scar on the boy's cheek, "Wow," he whispers, "You're really springing that on me right now?"

He pulls Peter to his chest, breath hitching when the merboy returns the embrace and nuzzles into his cotton sweatshirt.

"You know what? You'll be just fine. You are going to do so much better out there in your element," he murmurs, "No more lingcod from the fridge, no more cramped quarters, no more crazies to deal with…just miles and miles of open ocean. And I want you to go as far out as you can."

He waits another minute, just holding on to his boy, heart skipping a beat at what he has to do next.

Pulling away, he points to the water like he does every day, "Go on, Pete…Go play."

Peter doesn't move.

This isn't their routine.

"Petey, you have to go, bud. I'm sorry," Tony says again, rubbing his eyes and gesturing again towards the waves, "Don't make this worse than it has to be. Please."

Something seems to click inside Peter's mind, as if he drinks the truth up in one large dose. A shout of protest tears from his throat as he hooks his arms around the small handlebars at the front of the boat, flattening himself to the floor even as Tony pitches forward to stop him.

"No. Pete, please-please-please. Listen to me, kid. Listen," the older man begs, gripping the merboy in place, "They are going to come after you. Hammer and his guys, they'll take you away from me anyway, Peter! Please try to understand!"

Nothing but adrenaline drives Tony forward. He doesn't know how long their tussling carries on before he finally gets the upper hand, shoving Peter's flailing body off the side of the boat and pushing the throttle forward before the merboy can right himself.

He's not sure if it's the desperate hands slapping the sides of the boat or the cries Peter makes with each jump out of the water that kills him more, but it all fades further and further behind him when he keeps the engine at full speed.

Either way, Tony has never hated himself more in his entire life, and the hollowness that nearly claimed his life, the morning he and Peter met, returns with a vengeance, as if it's been lying in wait for another moment to strike.

And this time, Tony might just let it.

He waits till he gets home to fall apart.

………………

That should've been the worst of it

, the crushing pain of losing another child. 

This time he had witnessed it.

This time it's by his own hand.

But saying goodbye had only been a shadow of the things awaiting him when Steve and Rhodey come barreling through his door unannounced before he can down his second shot of whiskey.

"Where's Peter?" Rhodey asks, taking the glass away from his friend, "Tony, talk to me."

"I had to-I couldn't-"

"What happened?"

"I set him free," Tony says, pulling the whiskey bottle to his chest when Steve tries taking it, "They wanted to-they were going to use him-"

"Okay, easy," Steve says.

Rhodey keeps Tony from collapsing into a heap, bracing his back as they lead him over to the recliner.

"Here, Tones, let's sit down." 

"I left him," Tony whispers, "I didn't know what else to…What if he's-"

Steve meets Rhodey's gaze, both of them going quiet.

Tony studies them, another round of adrenaline hitting his veins.

They know something. They're here to break it to him.

Steve takes a seat on the coffee table and folds his hands together. "Tony…the coast guards were running through some drills about an hour ago. They found something…someone washed up on the shore, near the marina."

Tony's gaze wanders as the shock settles in, unaware of Rhodey's hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know anything other than that. They're investigating their findings down at the police station right now," Steve adds.

"Did they…Why the police…Is it…are you sure it's Peter?"

_No. Please, no._

"We just found out. I don't have any details, but you need to prepare for anything. For whatever reason, they didn't bring the victim to the hospital."

_Because it wasn't a human._

_Because they're dead._

Guilt consumes Tony's insides as he rises and stumbles for his coat. A vision of the merboy's cold, lifeless body lying alone somewhere on a table springs to his mind as he grabs for his keys.

Hammer would've kept Peter alive.

The scientists only wanted to study him.

_I killed him._

"Tony, you're in no condition to drive," Rhodey says, intercepting his thoughts, "Give me the keys."

Tony tries to bypass his friend, but Steve is quicker, yanking them from his hand and tossing them over to Rhodey.

The captain keeps him in place. "Hey. Together, right?" he asks.

Tony scoffs and blinks back tears, "You would use that now."

They lead him to his torment.

……….

"They took him to the hospital, after all."

Tony hears Rhodey say it but it doesn't feel real. He's almost back to pinching himself.

The cops share what they're permitted to say. Their story doesn't line up with any of the many morbid things Tony expected to hear on the drive over, but one thing is crystal clear:

The victim is alive, which means Peter is too.

Only, the victim taken by ambulance is most definitely a human being.

Go figure.

……

"I have to be sure," Tony says on their way to the hospital.

"Tones, they might not even let you see the kid. You're not his legal guardian or anything," Rhodey objects, adjusting the steering wheel when the tires slide a bit on the icy road, "Heck, we might not even make it there if this weather keeps up."

"I know it doesn't make sense, and I sound like a…freaking psychopath, but…it's like he's calling me."

Tony reclines his seat back in the passenger side, throwing his arms over his face and peeking back to see Steve's sidelong glance.

"Would you, please, shut up?" Tony tells him.

"I didn't say anything," Steve replies.

"Well, your thoughts are screaming." 

"I'm just-"

"You think I've lost it."

"No."

"Yeah, you do. You're an open book, Rogers."

"I was thinking, you've been put through the wringer."

"See?" Tony says, tapping Rhodey's arm, "Polite way of saying someone's cracked."

"Fine. We'll go with that," Steve replies, knowing this is Tony's only way of coping.

As expected, it takes a lot to see the boy found at the marina.

On top of that, from the description given by a couple of nurses, Tony's beginning to doubt.

It's a possible trafficking situation. The teenage boy was found naked and unconscious, lying sprawled out on the beach in the middle of the night.

One. This kid's got legs, not a tail.

Two. Tony is not about to go popping into a traumatized child's room if he isn't absolutely certain it's _his_ traumatized child.

_And you threw him away…_

"And who are you to the patient?"

"I'm his guardian. Please, I just need to see if it's him or not. I won't talk to him unless it's Peter," he tells the on-call staff.

To his credit, Steve uses his powers of leadership for good and somehow manages to win them favor in the situation. He's even given the boy's room number with a string of warnings from the two nurses overseeing him.

"He hasn't let us near him yet," one tells them, "We did manage to get a hospital gown on him, though."

"You best come right back out if that ain't your baby," the other nurse adds, and Tony notes the maternal tone, her dark, brown eyes telling him she wasn't playing around.

"Yes, ma'am," Tony replies, relieved to see her devotion, whether this was Peter or not.

.......

There's no doubting it now.

It's Peter.

Well, minus the fins and tail, now replaced with a pair of 'string bean' legs folded up to his chest as he presses himself into a corner.

"Petey."

The boy won't look at him, let alone respond, but Tony inches closer.

When he can almost reach out and touch him, Peter turns his back, a growl of warning emitting from his throat.

"Okay. That's a new one," Tony whispers, crouching down to the boy's level, "…and a hundred percent justified, I might add."

He lays a hand on Peter's back, rubbing circles over cotton ties and half expecting a roar to follow.

Instead, he's met with silence as the boy manages to make himself appear even smaller.

The shivers are also new. Tony's fingers run along the goosebumps rising on the kid's skin in the gaps of the gown. Reaching for the blanket on the hospital bed, he wraps it around Peter's body.

There's the familiar clicking sound he knows and loves. Small victories.

The moment is short-lived.

When Tony tries to turn Peter around, he ducks beneath the older man's arms, dragging himself away with legs too new to use just yet.

"Kid," Tony says, grabbing for the boy's arm and turning him over, "Hey-"

Peter strikes him square in the face, hitting him in several more places as he makes all kinds of noise, but Tony persists, ignoring the little trail of blood trickling down his nose.

He prays the nurses don't come barreling in and assume things, hoping he still has a chance to make amends.

"Stop-stop-Petey," he pants, crossing the boy's arms across his chest, "Stop. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, buddy. I made a huge mistake."

Peter shakes his head as if he understands every word, squeezing his eyes shut as he trembles.

"I was scared," Tony continues, "I'm sorry."

He risks letting Peter's arms go, smoothing back curls as the boy melts into fresh sobs.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, buddy."

Tony gathers him up, cradling his head in the crook of his arm, and wiping the tears as they come, leaving his own to drip down his nose and chin.

"T-ony."

"Yeah, Tony. Tony's a freaking idiot."

"Tony."

"You've got him right here, kid. I'm all yours."

Tony adjusts Peter in his arms a bit more; the kid grabs on to his shirt with a death grip.

"Okay, you're okay. I'm just sitting you up. See? Trust. We can work on it," he continues, "And just for the record, I love you. You don't know what that means yet, but you will."

When Peter finds the nerve to loosen his grip, he stares down at his legs, poking at his kneecaps and looking up again.

"I see that," Tony responds, patting the boy's shins, "You didn't go and sign a contract with a sea witch for these, right?"

He's honestly wondering how on earth this could've happened, but it's likely he won't know the truth until the teen starts talking in full sentences.

"Well, one good thing about it," he says, lifting Peter over to the hospital bed, "Hammer and his quacks can't do anything to you anymore…and you might just get a dad out of the deal. Just F.I.Y, I'm ten times cooler than Prince Erik."

Peter lies there with more tears in his eyes, listening with the wonder of a newborn, the corners of his mouth turning up each time the man's voice changes pitch.

"Oh, are we smiling now?" Tony continues, unable to keep from grinning back.

It fades away as he clears his throat, grabbing for the boy's hand, "Thank you," he says with voice cracking, "…for coming back to me."

Steve and Rhodey watch over them at the door, catching a glimpse of destiny for what it is as the reunited pair continue healing each other's wounds by merely existing.

Who's to say if Peter was sent to Tony or if Tony was sent to Peter. Regardless, they belong together.

…………..

It's almost comical.

Peter's human form is almost harder to believe than it had been seeing his tail for the first time.

There will, no doubt, be a lot of adjustments awaiting them both in the coming days…

…starting with their living situation.

When Tony gets Peter home, early the next morning, he plops the wrapped-up boy down on the couch, not knowing that while he was in the bathroom, the kid would drag himself over to his original spot in the hot tub.

Bolting outside, Tony finds Peter gasping and yelling as he attempts to pull himself back out of the ice-cold water with no help from his legs.

"Kid!" he cries, grabbing the boy up by the strings of his gown and half-dragging him back inside.

Peter looks up at him for answers, turning back to his old refuge in utter confusion.

Tony leaves him on the carpet at the sliding glass door to fetch some towels; a sympathetic laugh bubbles from his lips when he returns.

"You don't have any idea what just happened, do you," he continues to chuckle, rubbing one of the towels vigorously over the boy's hair, "I'm afraid your hot tub days are over…well, unless it's an actual _hot_ tub."

Peter looks down at his shivering body like there's something wrong with it, like there's something wrong with him.

"You're alright," Tony says, drying him off the rest of the way, "Hey, look at me."

Peter does.

"You're gonna be fine…absolutely fine. More importantly, you're not alone anymore."

Tony pats the boy's head and wraps the towel around Peter's shoulders.

"I guess I've got to get used to keeping you dry instead of wet now. Trust me, kid. I'm just as confused as you are. Sit tight. I'm going to grab you some clothes."

Peter turns to look out the glass door as the shivers continue, brown eyes honing in on the rolling waves crashing over the rocks. Morning light displays a dim vignette. A gust of wind sends the snow swirling through the air as it beats against the hut. Everything but the sea is blanketed in white.

He rests his fingers on the cold glass followed by his forehead, breath fogging up the view as he waits.

Tony returns to his side with a stack of clothes, pulling the boy away from the window and taken aback when he sees the unshed tears.

Opening and closing his mouth, the older man ends up tilting his head and squinting, slow to respond when he knows there is nothing he can say that can remedy the emotions that follow with change.

Instead, he lifts up a loose gray hoodie that says, ' _Sorry, can't talk. I'm on another line'_ with the silhouette of a man pulling in a fish. Pepper had found it at a souvenir shop years ago; it's still one of his favorites.

"Look, these clothes are the coziest things you can wear while not sticking out like a sore thumb. I figured we can break you in slow. Something tells me you'd lose it in a pair of Levi's," Tony says, pulling the hoodie over Peter's head, "Though, I'm willing to bet you'll be asking me for them once you're old enough to flirt."

Peter relaxes with the chatter, getting his bearings again as Tony helps him dress and further tries to explain how undergarments and sweatpants work, how to put socks on, and how to roll up sleeves if it gets too hot.

Tony questions if Peter regrets this whole thing as he watches him pull at the shirt collar around his neck and scratch around the hem of his pants where his scales used to be, but when they sit on the couch and start, yet another, classic movie, the boy discovers a change he actually likes.

With the water no longer separating him and his guardian, Peter figures out he can sit next to Tony…

…right next to him.

As he scoots closer and closer, Tony lets out a genuine laugh, lifting his arm and letting the boy curl into his side.

"Hey, now, don't you remember me saying that hugs aren't my thing?" he says, pulling a throw down off the back of the couch and lying it over the boy, "How dare you expose me like this."

Peter gives a string of clicks and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl Tony holds in his lap, munching on the snack as he turns his attention back to the movie.

Tony's chest aches as his heart surrenders to unbridled fondness, letting it consume his entire being for the first time since he had lost everything.

Later on, after the credits roll, he turns off the TV, taking a deep breath and carefully setting the bowl of rattling kernels onto the coffee table. Peter twitches in his sleep, cheek squished against Tony's chest as a puddle of drool spreads over his cotton shirt.

It's over at this point, Tony thinks. When saliva stains aren't a bother anymore and could even be considered a privilege, fatherhood has officially taken over.

They both sleep through the rest of the morning.

…….

Somehow with the insanity that was the last twenty-four hours, Tony had forgotten all about Justin Hammer and his crew of sketchy scientists.

As Peter sits in his new wheelchair and Tony pulls different things out of the fridge and works on a big batch of cookies to try new foods with the kid, there's a passionate banging on the front door.

_Oh._

_Right._

With utter confidence and oven mitts on his hands, Tony strides to the entrance. Opening the door to a group of reporters and cops, Hammer, himself, leads the charge, looking positively smug as camera flashes go off and microphones charge forward to invade his personal space.

Tony smiles at them all, even waving at the camera, to the surprise of some.

"Oh, wow. Did I space? It was my turn to host the Winterland party this year, wasn't it?"

Hammer's eyes narrow in suspicion, turning to gesture for the cops, "That's him."

"I know I dropped the ball," Tony continues, "-but I swear, I'm gonna make it up to you guys."

The closest officer steps in front of Hammer, showing his badge with a hint of shame.

"We just need to do a quick check…on some things," he says, clearing his throat as another cop orders the reporters to step back for the third time in a row.

"Hang on. Do you have a search warrant?" Tony asks, crossing his arms and pretending to look concerned, "I don't want to be difficult, officer. It's just that I don't know if I'm comfortable with all this."

"He doesn't need a warrant," Hammer cuts in, voice climbing as his brows furrow together, "Officer, I believe he's stalling. You're about to see why once you see what he's hiding."

The officer closes his eyes, inhaling through his nose as he puts his hands on his hips.

"You know what, I'm being paranoid," Tony relents, "It's freezing out here. I'm a little intimidated by all of this, but why don't you all come on in. I've got chocolate crinkle cookies baking in the oven. We can all just…sort this out and enjoy the season."

The crowd of people exchange glances with each other as Tony leaves the door wide open.

Dean Martin's _Let It Snow_ plays on his father's old record player as everyone files in, looking around for the merboy Hammer has, no doubt, told them about.

Peter resembles a deer in the headlights, itching for escape until Tony grabs his hand.

The older man leans down, whispering reassurances into his ear and hoping it's enough now that Hammer and the scientist from earlier stand there with eyes boring into his kid.

Peter's fingers squeeze tighter to Tony's hand, but he makes no sound, trusting his guardian enough to sit still in his chair.

"There he is!" Hammer cries to the cops, "I told you he had a merman hiding here!"

He flies over to the wheelchair, hands reaching to rip the heavy blue quilt off of Peter's legs as he sends it flying behind him.

"See for yourself!"

The room falls silent, save the misplaced and cheerful tune still playing in the background.

_…But if you'll really hold me tight_

_All the way home I'll be warm_

_The fire is slowly dying_

_And, my dear, we're still goodbying_

_But as long as you love me so_

_Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_

"I'm sorry…but did you really just call my son a merman?"

Hammer looks over at Tony, mouth gaping as he tries to process the boy's lack of fins.

"I…this is…what did you…"

"After all the bullying he's had to face this year-"

"I-I-How-"

"Do you have even the remotest idea of just how rude and offensive your words are? Have you not educated yourself on the effects they have on people with disabilities?" Tony continues, using his free hand to cup the side of Peter's face. "Honestly, how dare you."

"That is NOT your son," Hammer seethes through his teeth, moving his face within inches of Tony's, "What are you playing at, Stark."

"Oh, he most certainly is my son. He'll be legally free to adopt in about six months. I've got the papers right here to prove it." Tony pulls out the kitchen drawer next to his hip, shuffling through some papers and grabbing a stapled packet of documents. He reaches across the counter to the officer standing on the other side, looking back to Hammer in satisfaction.

Murmuring fills the space as cameras are set down and people shake their heads.

"I have the footage!" Hammer shouts over them, whirling around and digging into his pockets, "Where's my...doctor-friend? He's got all the proof as well."

The few scientists involved slip back out the door, abandoning ship and leaving Hammer all alone to fend for himself.

A string of curses spews out of the man's mouth. He whirls around and swipes his arms over a shelf of pots and pans, sending the metalware crashing to the floor.

Tony's eyes catch the drawer again, knowing Hammer's evidence sits under several more stacks of paperwork. He had managed to snag it off of him in their scuffle in the fish plant.

An officer moves to Hammer's side, encouraging him to leave the premises, but the man refuses.

"I know what I saw!" he shouts with mounting hysteria.

This time he goes in with a different tactic, "You know, drawing blood wasn't the only test they ran on the kid. It's a shame, you know. If you'd gotten there just a little earlier, you could've learned something new about your little pet."

Tony bites on his cheek, envisioning Hammer's face caving in once his fist collides with his nose, but he holds back, setting his jaw as a couple more officers drag the man away in handcuffs when he refuses to comply.

The house full of people follow suit, bickering about the fact that their stories were all a bust and how they aren't getting paid enough.

Tony bends down to Peter's level, grabbing the boy's face in his hands, "You okay?"

Peter blinks a few times, studying Tony's red fingers due to how hard he's been squeezing them.

"O-kay?" he repeats.

Tony's eyes widen, "That's right. Okay. Look at you. Two words in one day."

The timer on the stovetop goes off and Tony smirks. "Cookies, anyone?"

"Sure, we'll take a couple."

Steve and Rhodey stand behind them, having slipped in as the crowd dispersed.

Tony rolls his eyes and rises to his feet, relief filling him as the beach hut returns to its quiet state.

"Nice timing, guys. And fine. I suppose we can share, right Petey?"

Peter smiles up at them.

Rhodey moves closer to give the boy a fist bump, doing his best to teach him how as Tony and Steve tease his failed attempts.

"E for effort, platypus," Tony laughs, taking a bite of one of his fresh cookies.

………..

_One Year Later_

Peter's legs quake as he reaches the halfway mark up the spiral staircase inside the old, empty lighthouse a ways from their beach hut.

He's been determined to climb to the top ever since Tony first revealed the abandoned structure to him.

 _"This,"_ Tony had pointed at it as they stood at the base during one of his first physical therapy sessions, _"…is where Tony first heard Peter's call for help."_

Of course, Peter hadn't fully understood at the time, recognizing only a few words like _Tony_ , _Peter_ , and _help_ , but his guardian was patient and slow to explain it. By the time it registered, Peter stared up at it like it had just become a priceless monument.

Now, as he looks up at the remaining steps, he doubts his abilities, even after the countless hours of training, the many setbacks he's endured, and all the other obstacles he's overcome in the journey to becoming a functioning human being.

Tony's gloved hand squeezes the back of his neck, "Hey, we can try again in another week-"

"No!"

Peter's eyes sting as he grits his teeth. His body wants nothing more than to sit on the step touching his knees, but he growls and forces his boot up, "I just need…I just need…"

He can't remember the right words to end his sentence, as a few tears land on his shoelaces.

"Need a minute?" Tony asks, lifting the boy's arm over his shoulder to take some of his weight.

Peter nods in relief, giving his father-figure most of his burden as he catches his breath.

"Thank you," he breathes, "Sorry."

Tony frowns, pulling back just enough to look at Peter's face, "Why?...Huh? Why are you sorry?"

Peter shakes his head, "Sorry."

"Let me ask you this, kid. Do you believe you can make it to the top today? Can Peter…get to…get up there…right now?"

Peter takes a second to reply, "Yes. I can. Today."

The smile Tony gives him increases his determination tenfold.

"Well, then, I think you can too," he says, "Now, come on. Let's finish this so we can go get some coffee and warm up at the Fish Shack."

Peter's nose wrinkles, "Sushi. Not Fish Shack. Please."

"Just think about it. Wouldn't you rather have a hot plate of food in the winter? It's snowing out and-" Tony laughs at the boy's expression, "Alright, fine. You climb this. We'll go have your raw and wriggling fish. I guess some things never change."

Peter grins, wrapping his arms around Tony and taking another step up the stairwell.

By the time he's five steps to the top, he's soaked with sweat beneath his many layers, pain throbbing up his legs as he gasps for air.

"You've got this, kid. Come on. Just a few more steps and you're there," Tony coaxes, pulling Peter's beanie off and unwrapping the scarf around his neck, "Breathe, buddy. Breathe. You're doing great."

"I can't."

"Oh, yes, you can…yes you can. You are not giving up on me now."

As Peter tries to collapse, Tony holds him up, resisting the urge to carry his kid the rest of the way.

"Go, Pete. Let's go!"

With loud growls of determination, Peter takes another step and then another, fueled by nothing but his father's voice as he turns to jelly at the top of the lighthouse.

Tony catches him right before he falls, both of them laughing as they twirl around in a victorious embrace.

"I did it! I did it, Tony!"

"I know you did. Nice job, kid."

Peter's legs sway as he looks around the pinnacle.

"I need to sit."

"Here, lean against the railing for a bit. I've got you."

Tony stands behind him, arms keeping him stable as they stare down at the view of the sea and the snow-capped trees.

"Wow," Peter cries, missing Tony's grin at the boy's ever-growing vocabulary.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?"

"What is breath take?"

"Breath- _taking_ ," Tony corrects, "You know your breath?" He inhales through his nose to demonstrate, "And taking…as in someone taking something away. So, sometimes the scene is so beautiful that it just-"

Peter shakes his head; Tony stops, knowing they aren't quite there yet with the language gap. He still has yet to learn how the boy even became human. It's something Peter keeps locked inside even when Tony has tried to help him open up about it using words he understands.

"You'll get it," he murmurs, tightening his hold on the boy as he feels Peter lean back against him.

"Tony."

"Hmm?"

"You saved me," Peter says as his curls whip around in the wind.

Tony ponders the statement, knowing this must be what the climb was all about…why it's so important to this kid.

And good grief, it's so utterly cliché…worthy of some cheap line in a Hallmark Christmas special, but he can't stop the next sentence from escaping off his tongue.

"Yeah, well, it's definitely the other way around, kid."

He wouldn't even be here today had he not heard the desperate cry of a merboy trapped in trawler lines.

"Other way?" Peter asks.

Tony sniffs, hiking his glasses a little higher up his nose, "Forget it. Your old man's just becoming a marshmallow."

"Marshmallow?"

"Yeah, like the ones in your hot cocoa this morning," Tony replies, clearing his throat and waving his hand in dismissal, "So, sushi?"

Peter grins.

……………………………

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> You may have noticed I left this open-ended.  
> I may have done that on purpose...or I may have been pressed for time. ;D Either way, I hope everyone enjoyed!  
> Please let me know your thoughts. I love each and every one of you! <3


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